


Ruffled Feathers

by time_converges



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Owls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/time_converges/pseuds/time_converges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Joan and their unexpected houseguest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruffled Feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NairobiWonders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/gifts).



> this is an expansion of my tumblr fic "Bird Sitting", originally written for quipxotic. Nairobiwonders asked for "more about the lodger owl," and I couldn't refuse!

Joan walked into the kitchen and stopped, startled. A large, gray owl perched on the back of one of the chairs, blinking at her. 

“Sherlock?”

“Hm?” he responded, his back to her as he stirred something on the stove.

“There’s an owl in the kitchen.”

“Hm? Oh, yes, this is Fredrick.”

Fredrick hooted softly.

Sherlock turned and addressed the owl directly. “This is Joan—I told you about her.”

The owl hooted again in agreement.

Joan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache. “So, we have an owl now?”

“Just temporarily. At least, I think so. The city isn’t really a good place for them, not enough places to hunt. We’re just bird-sitting, as it were. For 23 days. Or maybe it was 34, he wasn’t clear.”

“Of course we are.” She walked over to the refrigerator, keeping a wary eye on the owl. “He’s not going to try to land on my head or anything, is he?”

Sherlock turned to look at the bird again, considering. “No, I don’t think he will. He’s been very well-behaved.”

She sighed again, and at down at the table with her glass of juice. Fredrick hooted softly at her. “Hello, Fredrick,” she said, finally. He blinked back at her. She saw Sherlock smile, although he tried to hide it.

“He’s not sleeping in my room,” she said, quickly.

He shook his head. “No, of course not. I bought a cage for him, online, and I think it’ll do nicely in the library. It will add some ambiance, don’t you think?”

“Ambiance,” she agreed. “Has Clyde met him yet?” 

“No,” Sherlock said.

“He won’t try to eat him, will he?” she asked, trying to remember whether owls ate tortoises.

Sherlock turned quickly. “I’ll…keep them in separate rooms.”

Fredrick hooted mournfully.

***  
The first morning Fredrick was there, Joan awoke to find him perched on the chair she used as a nightstand, blinking at her as Sherlock came in with the breakfast tray.

"He wanted to wake you up," Sherlock said, setting the tray down on the bed next to her.

"Did he?" she asked, skeptically. "I thought owls slept during the day."

"He prefers to nap in the afternoons," Sherlock replied.

"Of course he does."

Joan quickly grew accustomed to having Fredrick around the brownstone. He liked to sit with them when they ate meals in the kitchen, and his favorite perch was on the back of Joan's chair, where he would rustle his feathers quietly and hoot softly at her as she ate. If she sat very still, he would perch on her shoulder for a few moments. She got used to finding his feathers around the brownstone, although Ms. Hudson fussed about them.

True to her word, she didn’t allow his cage to be put in her room. He was far too noisy at night, and she valued her sleep too much. But she would curl up on the couch in the library, where they had set up his cage, and nap while he slept in the afternoons. Just to keep him company, of course.

They discovered that he would play fetch, in his own way. He would chase a rolled up sock, or a toy mouse - which Sherlock 'just happened to pick up at the store' - and pounce on it dramatically. He would then puff himself up, the prey captured in his talons, and look eminently self-satisfied as they praised him for his hunting skills. He would then drop the toy in her lap, and wait for her to toss it again.

Fredrick loved to follow them around the house, and would perch next to one of them so he could bump his head against her arm, or Sherlock's arm, and demand to be petted.

"He thinks he's a cat," Joan said, as Fredrick closed his eyes while she scratched his head.

"Just so," Sherlock said. 

"So, how did your friend end up with a pet owl?"

"He rescued him, and got a permit to rehabilitate him. Fredrick here is too imprinted on people to be returned to the wild, so my friend kept him."

"Ah." Fredrick bumped his head against her hand, and she smoothed down his feathers. "Well, he's been a very considerate houseguest."

The next morning Sherlock and Fredrick greeted her with the usual breakfast tray. Fredrick hooted at her and ruffled his feathers. Sherlock stood, shifting from one foot to the other, tapping his hands on his thighs.

She looked from one to the other. "Okay, which of you will tell me what's going on?"

Sherlock looked at Fredrick, who just blinked back at him. "Very well, I will. Fredrick's owner would like to know if we could keep Fredrick a little longer. He's been delayed on his trip."

"How long?"

"Undetermined at this time. Perhaps another six weeks."

Joan took a bite of toast to give herself time to pretend to consider. "Well, if it's unavoidable, we can't very well turn him out, can we?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"All right. But same rules - he's not sleeping in my room."

"Of course, of course," Sherlock replied, looking relieved. Fredrick flew over and landed on his shoulder, looking very self-satisfied.

"But you'll have to tell Ms. Hudson," she added.

Fredrick gave a soft hoot in agreement.


End file.
